People Help the People
by Lady Eponine Black
Summary: She was the perfect, pretty ballerina with bitter, guarded eyes who dreamed of a place where she could be happy. Whilst upholding her 'perfect' facade, Sasha meets Roman, who brings her happiness, but not what she's looking for. And then there's Michelle, who's the last person you would think of to help a proud, vulnerable girl who doesn't have as much going for her as it seems. TW
1. You'll be Fine

The first (and last) time Sasha Torres asked her mother for advice, the slender dark haired ballerina received only a single piece of reluctant, hurried wisdom – "Find yourself a boyfriend and you'll be just fine." Sasha wondered if that was what her mother had been trying to do.

She was twelve years old at that point, which was when things had first started to go wrong. Twelve was how old she was when her father started drinking heavily and staying out all night, when her mother switched from neglecting her to completely ignoring her. Twelve was how old she was when Boo started being less like a mini-me and more like a stranger, when girls started making snide comments about her in the hallways. Twelve was how old she was when she started feeling empty inside, like somebody had ripped out whatever make her _her_ and sewn up the hole with pink satin ribbon. Twelve was also the number of shallow cuts Sasha made on her silky stomach with a blade from her pink razor the night before she turned thirteen.

When she was thirteen, Sasha got drunk for the first time. She couldn't understand what her father liked about it – it didn't make you _forget_ your problems, it just made you dwell on them, only you weren't thinking straight. At least, for her it did. Thirteen was how old she was when she decided that she was getting out of Paradise someday. When she was little and her family was happier, she had thought Paradise was the whole world. As she grew older, she didn't stop believing in that little kingdom of happiness, but she realized that she would have to look for it somewhere else. But she didn't know where. For everybody else she knew, Paradise was that 'last stop', the idyllic little town they dreamed of. For Sasha, it was a prison disguised with sunshine, one that she was slowly learning how to escape from. She dreamed of cities and storms and happiness, and she knew she'd get there sometime. She carved the restless unhappiness of her dreams into her the taut flesh of her stomach, deeper and deeper, punishing herself for never being good enough, and giving herself the only real comfort she knew. She still drank sometimes, but only because it was the thing to do. She wasn't her father, no matter how much she'd idolized him as a child.

It was funny how easy it was to hide.

Fourteen was how old she was when she started getting the leads in all the dance productions, and realized that she might have a chance to get out after all. Fourteen was how old she was when she put on a snarky, bitter, perfect mask made of pain and fear and unhappiness and resolved never to take it off.

Until she met Roman.

He was...well, perfect. He was cute, he was snarky and sarcastic and funny and a good kisser. He made her laugh, he made her forget her troubles for a while. He made her so happy that she put down the razor. For a week anyway.

And that was the thing. Her mother had been wrong. Having a boyfriend didn't suddenly make everything okay. It was just one more person to try and hide from.

The problem was that everybody else thought like her mother. After all, how could you possibly be unhappy when you have a boyfriend?

So Sasha humored them, tried even harder to perfect her perfect façade. Because after all, how could she _possibly_ be unhappy?

Easily.


	2. Claimed By the Claws of Time

**A/N For the person who asked, this is ****Sasha/Roman****_not_**** Michelle/Sasha slash. It is also set loosely after 1.13, but I'm not paying to close attention with the actual storyline though :P**

"And that's it for today, folks." Michelle Sims said, motioning with her hand for the girls and boys to drop their positions, which they did with a loud sigh of relief. "Oh, don't be like that – you guys, this is _dance_, not cheerleading, not girl scouts – and that means that there's a 99% chance that you're gonna have to _dance_, got it? See you all next class." She called as the girls started gathering their stuff.

Sasha was the first out of the studio, the door swinging shut behind her as she pulled her gray sweatshirt over her head.

"What's up with her?" Ginny asked Boo as they unlaced their ballet shoes.

"I have no idea." Boo answered. "She's barely said a word to me today."

"Well if 'barely said a word' means 'completely ignoring', then yeah, same here." Tall, graceful Melanie added, shaking the tight bun out of her auburn hair.

"It's probably her parents again." Boo said knowingly as she pulled on her sweater.

"Boo, she doesn't even _live _with her parents anymore." Melaine said, rolling her eyes. "She has a house and a boyfriend – she's practically an adult, what does she have to worry about?"

"Well, I know _I _have a lot to worry about." Ginny groaned. "My father called me 'Claire' on the phone last night – he thought I was my mother – god, I'm 16 and I'm already my mother."

"Come on, _Claire,_ Charlie's waiting." Melanie said, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "If we make him wait any longer he'll forget why he's here and just drive home."

The three girl hurried down the stairs and into the waiting car.

Back in the studio, Michelle Sims sat down on one of the folding chairs and took a long sip from her water bottle, sweeping the room with her eyes to make sure there wasn't any stray bags that had been left behind. In doing so, she caught a glance at herself in the floor-length mirrors that lined the studio. Reflectively, she reached to smooth out her light brown hair, noticing – as she always did – the ringless state of her forth finger. And, as she always did, she thought of Hubbell.

Hubbell. The husband she never had – or had for a rough 24 hours, actually. The husband who, although she barely knew him, had brought her here, to Paradise, a place that she had slowly let herself be captured by. Where would she be now? Michelle wondered, had she never agreed to marry Hubbell. Still in Vegas, she guessed, with Talia and... Who else did she have there? Not, certainly, as many people as she had here. Fanny, Truly, Godot...and the girls, of course. If she'd stayed in Vegas, she'd never have been a dance teacher. In all honesty, there was _still_ a part of her that inwardly rebelled at the idea of teaching – the same part of her that dreamed of Vegas, she supposed. But there was a third part of her...the part that dreamed of New York and the stage, the part of her that yearned to fulfill the dreams she'd crafted long ago, as a child with stars in her eyes and a mask on her face. It was too late, she knew, but she still regretted the direction her life had gone in, still wondered what would happen if she'd never left for Vegas. If time hadn't claimed her, she wondered, who would she be? Not the Michelle Sims that taught ballet at the Paradise Dance Academy and lived in a guesthouse, that was for sure.

It was something she tried not to think about too often.

As she readied the studio for her next class, Michelle's thoughts drifted to Sasha. Her heart ached for the tall dancer with the guarded, restless eyes that reminded her so much of herself.

She hoped that she could save Sasha from the mistakes that she herself had made.


	3. Anyway

"Hey, Boo!" Melanie called as she spotted the curvy blond dancer putting her books in her locker. She and Sasha sped up slightly until they were all three side by side.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you 'yeah' me Boo; we said we'd do lunch together today." Melanie snapped.

"But what about Carl?" Boo protested. "He wanted to have lunch together today and I couldn't say no, could I?"

"Yes." Sasha said firmly. "That is exactly what you are supposed to do – friends come first." She nodded wisely.

"Fine. I'm sorry. But what about you and Roman?" Boo countered. "You guys eat lunch sometimes."

"Yes, Boo, we eat lunch every together Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. But we plan it. Deal, okay?"

"God, you guys sound like Ginny and that guy." Melanie remarked snidely.

"'That guy?' Mel, they dated for years; how can you not remember his name?" Boo said in surprise.

"I don't know – because it wasn't important?"

"He was her boyfriend, Mel." Boo rolled her eyes.

"More like a bolster pillow."

"You did _not_ just say that."

"Josh. It was Josh, okay? Can everyone calm down now?" Sasha snapped.

"Okay, wow. Sorry." Melanie said, rolling her eyes.

"Come on; we have class this afternoon."

"Big surprise there." Ginny said, appearing next to them as they exited the school. "Madame Fanny's really pressing it in, isn't she?"

"Yeah." Melanie said, agreeing with the tiny blond.

"Well, maybe you guy's just aren't taking dance seriously enough." Sasha snapped.

"God, Sasha, what's with you today? Fighting with Roman?"

"What? No. Roman and I are fine." Which, Sasha thought, was true enough. Amidst all the chaos in her life, she and Roman were, surprisingly okay.

"Then I guess you're giving him all the love and us all the snark, huh Sasha?" Melanie burst out; then looked slightly ashamed. Internally, Sasha wanted to slap her, but she didn't.

"Wow, thanks Mel."

"Hey, just speaking the truth."

"Come on guys." Boo pleaded. "We have to get to class.

"Fine." Sasha said, sneering at Boo." I'm getting. We're all getting. Let's go"

0000000000000

Sasha sat on the floor lacing her ballet shoes, still a little annoyed at her friends; especially Melanie. Ever since the tall, brunette dancer had taken up the stupid hobby of roller-derby, she had been slowly pulling away from the rest of the group. Or had the group been pulling away from her? Sasha wondered. Without ballet trying the four of them together, could they still function? They had when Fanny had closed down the studio; she remembered. But then they had been united with the loss of ballet, so it wasn't really the same, was it? No, it wasn't. She looked around the studio. Melanie was in class today, yes, but the times when she wasn't were becoming more and more frequent. Sasha suspected that she might soon quit ballet all together. And that would be a pity, Sasha thought, as she smoothed her hair back into a bun. Melanie was a pretty good dancer, when it came down to it. A bit to distractible, but pretty good none the less. She missed Melanie already; the only one of her friends she could have a semi-decent conversation with. If she was being honest, she feared what would happen if her group fell apart. If she lost the only friends she ever had.

Suddenly, a wave of loneliness washed over her. She was already losing them, if she'd ever really had them to begin with.

She didn't want to think about this anymore, but it was as if she couldn't turn her mind off. She glanced at the clock – ten minuets until class. She glances around the room – Melanie was chatting with Cozette, Boo with Ginny and Matisse. she felt suddenly and forcefully alone. Because when it came down to it, she was. Melanie; the only one of her friends she could ever talk to was slowly distancing herself from the group, Boo and Ginny were totally oblivious, and Roman? It wasn't like she could talk to a boyfriend about the dark thoughts that swam around her head at night; the worthlessness and the guilt and the sadness that never seemed to go away. Boyfriends were for happy thoughts; which frankly, Sasha was finding very difficult at the moment.

Eight minuets until class started. She slid the razor out of her purse and headed towards the bathroom. Nobody cared anyway.

000000000000

"Michelle; would you go get Sasha?" Fanny asked her daughter in law. "Class starts in three minuets and you know how i feel about people being tardy."

"No problem, Fanny." Michelle said. "Be back in a sec."

000000000000

Michelle opened the bathroom door and was met with silence.

"Sasha? She asked softly. "You in here?" Nobody answered, but michelle noticed feet in the last stall. "Sasha?"

"Hold on" A small, hurried voice said, and Michelle heard panic in Sasha's response. Alarm bells went off in her head.

A few long minutes later, Sasha came out of the stall, head down, and started for the door. michelle saw that her eyes were red and her face was pale.


	4. Of Rust and Razors (TW)

"Sasha…" the tall, ponytailed brunette stood with her arms crossed over her rather flat chest, blocking the doorway so that the slender, scared girl in front of her had no way to escape.

"It isn't a crime to be in the bathroom, you know – this isn't some bad movie about a bulimic or an axe murderer."

"I wasn't born yesterday, you know."

"I _know_ that you are in my way." The dark haired ballerina spat, taking a step forward and trying to push past Michelle, her eyes flashing.

"Hey…Sasha…." Michelle caught hold of the girls shoulder so that she stopped suddenly, twisting away from the concerned teacher. "Sasha." She said again gently. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, okay? I'm going to be late." She turned away so that the older woman couldn't see the bitter vulnerability in her dark eyes.

"You aren't going to be late – class starts when I say it starts, and I say that we don't start dancing until you start talking."

"Look, I'm fine, totally fine can I go now?"

"Sasha, please. I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were."

"Look, I get it, okay? I have been in your shoes, believe me."

"No you haven't. You don't get it." Sasha shrugged her dark hair away from her face and glancing in the mirror briefly. Her eyes were red and wild, but her face was contorted into her perfected mask of blank carelessness.

"Oh yeah? Try me. Trust me, I've been in some pretty crazy situations, kid."

"Whatever." Sasha pushed past Michelle into the hallway, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder.

"Sasha!"

"What?" She turned, the late afternoon sunlight glancing off her hair and throwing her face into shadow. "I have to go."

"Are you okay, Sasha? Because you don't look okay."

"I'm fine." She said, but her voice trembled the slightest bit and her eyes glanced off Michelle's like two startled gray rabbits.

"Because if you're not, I'm here. I'll listen. I understand, or I'll try to. If you ever need anyone, I'm here." Michelle said gently, voicing the words that she, as a young girl burdened with sadness, would have given anything to hear. She saw Sasha's eyes change, saw her mouth tighten, and wondered what Sasha was hiding behind those slate-eyes; for her to need someone so badly. "Tell the girls I'll be out in a minuet to start class. And hey, Sasha, you're a good kid, you know? Don't be too hard on yourself."

Sasha gave a tiny nod, and turned on her heal and slipped own the hallway, her head bent. Michelle couldn't see her face, but her heart ached for the girl that reminded her so much of herself.

Michelle turned to the mirror and studied her reflection, sucking in her stomach critically, and then running her hands gently over her closed eyes.

"Dear god what have I gotten myself into?" She muttered to the empty room. But even though she didn't have to, Michelle stepped inside the bathroom stall that Sasha had been in only a few minuets before. The smell hit her immediately, the familiar tang of rust and cold metal and sharp blood. She closed her eyes and she was 16 again, caught in a world of dancing silver and lusty red. She caught a glimpse of silver, and her hands reached to pick up the blade from the back of the toilet seat. She turned it over and over in her hands, until her fingers were numb. _She must have forgotten it, _Michelle thought, but then she remembered whom she was dealing with. Sasha was too smart for that.

Nobody is as careless as they pretend to be. This wasn't a mistake, or a flashy call for attention (not, Michelle thought, that she didn't need it). This was a cry for help from a girl to proud to ask for it.

"Jesus what the fuck do I do now?" Michelle whispered. As usual, nobody answered her, which wasn't surprising seeing as she was in an empty bathroom swearing to herself. Again. She wasn't drunk this time though, so she supposed it was an improvement. She smiled wryly at the irony of the situation, put the blade in her pocket, and rolled her shoulders back. She glanced at herself in the mirror one last time, and then strode out of the bathroom to where her Senior Advanced Ballet class was waiting.

…


	5. If Only You Knew

"Fanny, I'm worried about Sasha." Michelle burst out. The two women were alone in the studio, sorting costumes.

"You'd be a bad teacher not to be worried about her."

"What do you mean?"

Fanny sighed.

"That girl's been in and out of various trouble since she was thirteen years old."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Well, as you know by this point – or should, anyway - her motivation isn't as high as it should be. That's because of her parents, naturally. I always though that her father's open secrecy hurt the daughter more than it ever did him or her mother. And you know the way Sasha acts out."

Michelle nodded, remembering the day when Sasha had shown up in a stolen shirt; and it had only gotten worse from there.

"Well, that's been going on for years now. Pushing the limits. Showing up late; breaking the rules, drinking at all hours as if she was her father all over again. Something's been brewing in that dark head for years and I wouldn't be surprised if it surfaced before long."

0000000000000

"Hey, Sasha, wait up!" Roman called, jogging to catch up with the tall, dark haired dancer.

"Oh, Roman. Hey." Sasha smiled at him, slowing down slightly.

"You were going to wait."

"I forgot. Sorry." She shrugged.

"What's up? You look distracted. Madam Fanny tightening the strings again?" He grinned, and knocked her gently with his elbow.

"Ha. No. But there's always time."

"Still working on the show for next month?"

"Yup. Not that we'll ever be ready. Might as well go out for cheerleading again with all the fun dance is lately"

"That bad?"

"Not really, I'm just making it up." Sasha rolled her eyes playfully at her kind-of-almost-boyfriend. "But it's not like I have anything better to do with my life."

"I'll agree that Paradise isn't all that thrilling," Roman said, and Sasha nodded.

"Try 'utterly boring' and you're right on the mark."

"Well hey; that just means we'll have to work a little harder to find some excitement, Are you on for Friday night?"

"Are you asking me out?"

"Are you saying yes?"

"What time?"

"I'll pick you up at seven and we'll see what happens from there."

"I'll be waiting."

"You better be because they're a party up in Roxford that starts at eight."

"And you know about this how?" Sasha asked impishly, cocking an eyebrow.

"I got a friend up there that hooks me up with weed sometimes."

"This isn't one of those parties where everybody gets high, is it?"

"Little Miss Perfect, aren't you?"

"No, I was wondering which of my friends could be talked into coming; and if it's Boo then I'll need parental supervision and a PG-13 rating."

"I'd ask Melanie then. Boo might not be interested."

"I guessed as much." Sasha grinned, pulling out her keys and unlocking her car. "Call me tonight, kay?"

"You got it." Roman said, giving her a mini-salute before walking away.

_Little Miss Perfect. _Sasha thought as she drove away. The fresh cuts on her ribs were still stinging. _If only you knew._


End file.
